Arriving Haridwar, the share auto driver drops us at a busy intersection. Near the railway station, lightens our load by Rs 300/-, and points "That way," to Upper Road, "3 or 4 minutes to Har Ki Pauri Hotel."
Twenty minutes later we're still walking. GoogleMaps has shown the slow progress towards our destination. We pass endess same-but-different stores and stalls hawking plastic bangles, joss sticks, toe rings, malas and other assorted brass and copperware for puja salvation. The road is thick with tourists of the indigenous kind, all keen to be immersed in the spirit which calls from the mighty Ganga.
Here the ghats remind me of stepped seats at the stadium, the river the praying field, access steps lined with beggars, sadhus and visiting pilgrims. There are more disabled and distressed persons per head of population in Haridwar at Hai Ki Paura, when the Ganges merges with seven other tributaries, than so far enountered.
Safely we make it to our hotel, check in, settle in, but then are relocated to the 'flight deck' Room 303 (thankfully there's a lift), because it's easier to change rooms than get the shower fixed. Guess the place is not full, despite the big crowd crush on the riverbank nearby. Must be the rates. Great room with 'water views' for Rs 800/- per night no service charge for cash and no Form C filling required! Lucked in so took the room upgrade with the extra 2 square metres for Rs 1000/- per night.
But I digress. Bara Bazar. Food is needed. I mean one can only survive on yellow dahl and dates for breakfast for so long. Need some proper stuff. Oats!!!! Back down to Upper Road, checking out more malas and sandalwood samples. Endless enquiries. No luck.
A helpful local directs us to a side lane. We drop down into more familiar territory; fruit sellers and tea shops. Strike One: Bananas, dates, tomatoes and a cucumber. Red carrots appear to be in season but the offer is declined. No oats. We reach a T junction and spot an opening in the wall. The long haired purveyor of nuts, dried fruits and assorted packaged goods, beckons us to enter. Scanning the shelves we find 'coco puffs' but no oats. 'Porridge' I scrawl on a scruffy white note pad. Nahi!
"Do you want some almonds?" says DG.
"Did you see that rat?" my response.
They match the colour of the long tailed rodent that seemed to drop out of the sky onto them and scurry to the end of the pile. Maybe we'll pass.
Down deeper into Bara Bazar, the shopping list still deficient of oats, dahi and 'Brittainia' biscuits.
"Over there," a shopkeeper points.
"What? Where the mirrors are?"
"Yes."
Sure enough, mirrors and medicals to the left, general provisions to the right.
"Britainnia?"
"Yes. Marie!"
"Nahi. Chinni nahi!"
Shopkeeper, 2IC and four boys ar soon all actively engaged in the great salted cracker biscuit hunt. How many Indians does it take to produce a pack of 'Zig Zag' snacks?
"Rs 10/-and you get 20% extra," he exclaims. Shopping for even the simplest of things is a real social experiment here.
Only two items to go. DG is about to give up on oats when I spot the 'Last Chance Texaco'. Lucks in. English preferred here.
"Oats?" I emplore.
"No problem sir. Only large packet," he says.
I gesticulate and suggest it may be 20kg, but discover it's only ek (one)!
Rummaging behind tins and jars we find the hidden treasure. Australian oats of course, 1kg Lion brand from Victoria. But wait, there's more, 30% more. Free 150g with this pack. Use by date not expired and still only Rs 77/-. And the coup de gras, DG notes it's got a zip lock bag. Sweet!
Dahi, dahi? Only lassi curd so far until we hit the enormous vat of warm buttermilk. Got to try this. Rs 15/-, in an earthenware pot.
"Drink and then throw it away."
More eco friendly than plastic, I chuck the empty drinking vessel into the upturned milk can, the solitary disposal vehicle. 'Drains to the river?' I wonder.
Dahi as well. Fresh. Plastic bagged. We're on our way. Celebration. Time for chai? Dudh wali chai chinni nahi- of course!
Twenty minutes later we're still walking. GoogleMaps has shown the slow progress towards our destination. We pass endess same-but-different stores and stalls hawking plastic bangles, joss sticks, toe rings, malas and other assorted brass and copperware for puja salvation. The road is thick with tourists of the indigenous kind, all keen to be immersed in the spirit which calls from the mighty Ganga.
Here the ghats remind me of stepped seats at the stadium, the river the praying field, access steps lined with beggars, sadhus and visiting pilgrims. There are more disabled and distressed persons per head of population in Haridwar at Hai Ki Paura, when the Ganges merges with seven other tributaries, than so far enountered.
Safely we make it to our hotel, check in, settle in, but then are relocated to the 'flight deck' Room 303 (thankfully there's a lift), because it's easier to change rooms than get the shower fixed. Guess the place is not full, despite the big crowd crush on the riverbank nearby. Must be the rates. Great room with 'water views' for Rs 800/- per night no service charge for cash and no Form C filling required! Lucked in so took the room upgrade with the extra 2 square metres for Rs 1000/- per night.
But I digress. Bara Bazar. Food is needed. I mean one can only survive on yellow dahl and dates for breakfast for so long. Need some proper stuff. Oats!!!! Back down to Upper Road, checking out more malas and sandalwood samples. Endless enquiries. No luck.
A helpful local directs us to a side lane. We drop down into more familiar territory; fruit sellers and tea shops. Strike One: Bananas, dates, tomatoes and a cucumber. Red carrots appear to be in season but the offer is declined. No oats. We reach a T junction and spot an opening in the wall. The long haired purveyor of nuts, dried fruits and assorted packaged goods, beckons us to enter. Scanning the shelves we find 'coco puffs' but no oats. 'Porridge' I scrawl on a scruffy white note pad. Nahi!
"Do you want some almonds?" says DG.
"Did you see that rat?" my response.
They match the colour of the long tailed rodent that seemed to drop out of the sky onto them and scurry to the end of the pile. Maybe we'll pass.
Down deeper into Bara Bazar, the shopping list still deficient of oats, dahi and 'Brittainia' biscuits.
"Over there," a shopkeeper points.
"What? Where the mirrors are?"
"Yes."
Sure enough, mirrors and medicals to the left, general provisions to the right.
"Britainnia?"
"Yes. Marie!"
"Nahi. Chinni nahi!"
Shopkeeper, 2IC and four boys ar soon all actively engaged in the great salted cracker biscuit hunt. How many Indians does it take to produce a pack of 'Zig Zag' snacks?
"Rs 10/-and you get 20% extra," he exclaims. Shopping for even the simplest of things is a real social experiment here.
Only two items to go. DG is about to give up on oats when I spot the 'Last Chance Texaco'. Lucks in. English preferred here.
"Oats?" I emplore.
"No problem sir. Only large packet," he says.
I gesticulate and suggest it may be 20kg, but discover it's only ek (one)!
Rummaging behind tins and jars we find the hidden treasure. Australian oats of course, 1kg Lion brand from Victoria. But wait, there's more, 30% more. Free 150g with this pack. Use by date not expired and still only Rs 77/-. And the coup de gras, DG notes it's got a zip lock bag. Sweet!
Dahi, dahi? Only lassi curd so far until we hit the enormous vat of warm buttermilk. Got to try this. Rs 15/-, in an earthenware pot.
"Drink and then throw it away."
More eco friendly than plastic, I chuck the empty drinking vessel into the upturned milk can, the solitary disposal vehicle. 'Drains to the river?' I wonder.
Dahi as well. Fresh. Plastic bagged. We're on our way. Celebration. Time for chai? Dudh wali chai chinni nahi- of course!
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